The Gift of Time
by maramouse
Summary: DH missing moment. Ron and Hermione discuss the prospect of a future post-war.


A/N: I wrote this story about a month ago...my first HP fanfiction since I use to write for HPFF back when I was twelve/thirteen. It's a _Deathly Hallows _missing moment set during "The Deathly Hallows" when Harry is going through his obsession/depression about the deathly hallows and Ron is taking charge more. I'm not sure whether I like this or not, but it wasn't doing any good sitting on my laptop, so I'll let you guys be the judge. I have some other HP plotbunnies and an almost finished story in Harry's PoV of Rose's birth, so hopefully, they'll be published soon as well.

You might note Hermione's thoughts in this about the prospect of a physical relation with Ron if she survives, obviously a part of many post-DH stories. I've given her my own, seventeen-year-old, not-very-experienced-with-the-opposite-sex thoughts (though she is eighteen and slightly more experienced than I am) in this. I see her as being more skeptical and fearsome, as it isn't something she can really learn out of a book, and her realization at the end fits my title.

Also, for those of you on Pottermore early, I'm RuneSparks31. I'm a very nice Gryffindor who would really adore more friends. ;)

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><p>Hermione tossed and turned in her sleeping bag. For at least the tenth time, she found herself still awake at an ungodly hour, worrying about death. Her mind had often kept her up at Hogwarts, and now that she had even more important things to worry about, her insomnia had gotten worse.<p>

She did not worry about how death would happen. Being muggleborn and one of Harry's companions made her at high risk for death, a fact she had accepted long ago. It wouldn't do her any good to worry about whether her death would be painful or who would cast the final blow. All she could do was focus on living.

She didn't worry about the circumstances of her potential death, but she did worry about all of the things she would never do.

She would never see her parents again, travel to America, or finish annotating _Hogwarts: A History_. She would never take her N.E.W.T.s, graduate Hogwarts, or find a job.

And she would never tell Ron how she felt about him or feel his lips pressed against her own.

It was this realization that concerned her most of all.

In the sleeping bag next to her, Ron stirred. She watched as he sat up and stretched his legs. His voice came out muffled and groggy. "'Ermione?"

"Go back to sleep, Ron," Hermione whispered, glancing at Harry, who was sleeping on the other side of Ron.

"No, I-" Ron rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. "Hey, are you all right?"

She meant to nod, but she felt tears pooling up in her eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, Ron pulled her into his arms. This only made her cry harder. She had just been worrying about what would happen if she never plucked up the courage to tell Ron how she felt about him, and here was Ron now, so fresh and whole and close to her.

"I'm sorry," she said, the tears running freer. "I just couldn't sleep, and…I'm so _scared_, Ron!"

He held her tighter. He had gotten more mature in the last year, because he did not even flinch at her tears.

She was further surprised when Ron took out his wand and murmured a spell that would prevent Harry from hearing them. It was the sort of thing Hermione would have normally done. She bit her lip, feeling ashamed that she had let her emotions get the best of her.

"Now," Ron said, turning back to her, "what is it you're so scared about?"

Hermione gazed into the distance. She and Ron had not had many deep conversations since Ron had returned. It taken the two longer to restore their friendship-much longer than it had taken Ron and Harry. Still, she missed being able to talk to Ron about almost anything. Ron's comments always managed to cheer her up. Maybe it was time she let him back in.

"I was just thinking," Hermione said quietly, "about everything I won't get to do if I-I don't make it."

Even in the dark, she could tell that Ron's face had paled in colour. "Listen, Hermione," he said, gripping her tighter, "that's not going to happen. You're going to survive. I'll make sure of it. I told you I'd pretend you were my cousin, and I mean it; I'm not going to let _anything_ happen to you."

"It's okay, Ron," Hermione said. "I-I know you won't let anything happen to me." It was amazing how safe Ron made her feel. "But just hypothetically, if we were separated, and something _did _happen…well, I'm only eighteen. There's an awful lot I haven't done."

She heard him draw in his breath. Both were silent for a few moments, considering her words. "Well," Ron said finally, "I see what you mean. There's an awful lot I haven't gotten to do, either. Blimey, _I'm_ not even eighteen."

She smiled, imagining Ron's bucket list. She had a feeling that completing his chocolate frog collection was on there somewhere. "I know I shouldn't think like that. The important thing is finding the remaining Horcruxes and helping Harry, especially now that he's so preoccupied with the Hallows. But at the same time…well, it isn't as though we can't pretend we're not in grave danger right now. We could both die any minute, and that's the truth."

"Listen, Hermione, I know things aren't so good for us now," said Ron. "That scares me, too. Believe me, I always imagined that if I were in danger of dying, Mum would be able to save me by making my favorite meal, but I need a lot more than steak and kidney pie to save me from the Death Eaters now." She managed a small smile. "But you know, we can't live like that. We're right here now, and there are a lot of people who haven't even made it this far. We're rather lucky, when you think about it."

"I know," she said softly, thinking again of how much Ron had matured in the last year. "We are lucky. But all the same, I can't help worrying."

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. His hand was rough with calluses and nearly twice the size of her own.

"Let's pretend that the war is over, and we all survived. What is it that you most want to do, sometime in your life?"

The answer came without a hesitation. "I'd want to start my own family."

Ron stared at her, and she found herself flushing. She, too, was surprised by the answer that had come out of her mouth. It was certainly something she had never thought about before, and she wondered where it had come from. But the more she thought about it, the clearer it came to her. She _did _want a family someday. She had had wonderful parents herself, and she wanted to bring children into the world who had the same sort of support that she herself had had.

"You…what?" Ron said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you'd be a great mum, but I thought you were going to say something like freeing all the house elves or something."

"I was," she said. "I mean, I want to do that too. And obviously this isn't something that would happen for a long, long while, after I've established myself in a career and everything." Her cheeks grew warmer. "But I just thought…after the war…well, it would be nice. I mean, isn't this the whole reason why we're fighting? To ensure a better life for future generations?"

"I suppose so," he said, not looking at her.

"Well…" She felt nervous for a reason she couldn't explain. "What about you? Have _you _ever considered having your own family someday?"

He looked so uncomfortable that she instantly regretted the question. But when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly steady. "Not really. But I suppose-not as many kids as my mum and dad, of course, cause that would be barmy-well, if I did survive this thing, a kid or two might be nice. I guess we do owe it to the future generation to make sure their lives aren't as dangerous as ours are."

They stared at each for a long time. Hermione was embarrassed to admit how relieved she felt by this particular statement. That-that was absurd! She hadn't even kissed Ron yet; she couldn't possibly be imagining what it would be like to _marry_ him.

Yet at the same time, she could envision what Ron's and her married life would be like quite clearly. They would still argue a lot, just like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but they would always make up in the end. Ron would always be there to lean on and support her, but would always ground her whenever she became too anxious or obsessive. It was easy to imagine Ron as a father, too. If they had a boy, he would teach him to play Quidditch; and if they had a girl, he would look after and protect her in the same way he looked after her and Ginny.

She felt even more embarrassed at the thought of exactly what she and Ron would have to _do _to make this family a reality. That was another thing that she might never get the opportunity to experience. Though she had always imagined it happening with Ron, she had also imagined them working up to it slowly.

Hermione felt unexpectedly confused by this realization. Of course she had imagined making love to Ron dozens of times, but deep down inside, she knew she wasn't ready. She was eighteen, yes, but she had barely properly snogged anyone, let alone anything else. Despite all of her other fears right now, the prospect of having sex with Ron scared her almost as much as fighting a Death Eater. Their job was to be there for Harry, and even a good snog could threaten their friendship.

But at the same time, if they didn't do something soon, then _when_? Would she go to grave without so much as admitting to Ron that she fancied him? And what if _he _was the one who didn't survive?

Interrupting her thoughts, Ron spoke again. "So tell me about these hypothetical children of yours. Would you name one Vicky, after their father?"

"I-_no_!" said Hermione, startled. She changed her approach when she saw that Ron was grinning. "And what about you? Would you name your kid 'Violet' or 'Lilac,' so that they could match their dear mother?"

"Merlin, don't even joke about that!" Ron said. They both began started to laugh at the horrible vision.

Once they had calmed down, Ron placed his hand on her arm. A shiver ran through her at the unexpected content. "Listen, Lavender didn't mean anything to me. You know that…don't you?"

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I think so."

"Good, cause you know, it was really stupid…and anyway, I didn't mean to hurt you." He cleared his throat, his pink ears just visible in the dark. "Do you ever think that someday, maybe you and Viktor-"

"No," she said simply. He nodded.

They both stared at each other. Hermione took in Ron's long nose and multitude of freckles, marveling how close their faces were to each other. Ron seemed to be memorizing her face, too. His blue eyes were warm, and his lips looked softer than they ever had before.

"Listen." He cleared his throat. "Hermione-"

Harry interrupted by emitting a loud snore. They both jumped away, even though they knew that Ron's spell had prevented him from hearing them. The sleeping Harry looked so calm and peaceful, two emotions that were so far away from him when he was awake.

"We should go to bed, too," Hermione said, avoiding his gaze.

"Right." Ron nodded. In spite of her words, neither turned away.

"Look," said Ron, "about what I was saying-"

"You can tell me tomorrow," Hermione said. He nodded, his shoulders slumping.

"Well, good night, then."

"Goodnight," she said, turning away from him.

He took her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. She squeezed back, then forced herself to let ago.

A few minutes later, she had still not fallen asleep. She felt like crying again, even though she knew something might have happened if she'd let it. Harry's snore, however, had awakened her up to her true priorities. The important thing right now was carrying out Dumbledore's mission, and anything else would only distract them.

A singular tear ran down her cheek. She wanted Ron so badly, despite the fact she knew that she had made the right decision. He was _Ron_. And in spite of it all, even with all of her doubts and fears, she couldn't bring herself to stop loving him.

The person next to her was breathing shallowly and unevenly, and she knew Ron was awake, too. She rolled over to face him. Ron looked at her, and she felt her heart quickening in preparation of what she was about to say.

"Just so you know," she said quietly, "I always imagined my children would have red hair."

Ron's eyes widened. Unwilling to face this conversation, she quickly pecked his cheek, then rolled over and shut her eyes. She could almost hear Ron's thoughts churning next to her.

_Time_. The answer came to her like a prayer a few minutes later. That was what she wanted most desperately after all of this was said and done…the time and opportunity to just do and _be_.

If she and Ron both did survive this thing (and Harry too, as she couldn't bear to think otherwise), then things would inevitably return to normal. She would finally confess her feelings for him, and they would master the art of snogging before rushing into anything else. And when they did finally make love, after they were both ready, it would probably be awkward and imperfect, but at the same time, it wouldn't matter. That was how first times were meant to be, and they would have plenty of time to refine their techniques in the future.

The prospect of time excited her more than anything else. With time, she wouldn't have to think about life and death and everything else she still had left to do. With time, she could just be eighteen. She could take her N.E.W.T.s and find a job and just be a normal girl her age with a boyfriend, not someone who was already thinking about marriage and children. With time, she wouldn't have to rush anything. Instead, she would have a whole lifetime full of living to do.

It would be unbearably hard to keep her feelings for Ron to herself until then…even harder, since she was now sure that he felt the same as she did. But if she did keep her head up, then she would have something new to fight for: the possibility of she and Ron and a long life together, instead of just a long life alone.

She glanced back at him. Ron had already managed to get back to sleep, apparently too tired to analyze the implication she had given him. Like Harry, he looked serene and calm, but unlike Harry, she found herself taken by how much he resembled a little boy when he slept. His freckled face emphasized his youth, and he looked so peaceful, like a little boy dreaming of sweets and chocolates.

Filled with a surge of Gryffindor courage, she put a hand on her cheek. He slept on, oblivious to way Hermione was fingering the slight stubble beneath her fingertips. "I love you," she said softly. "And I promise I will do anything to ensure that I don't have to miss anything with you."

Ron slept on. She blinked away another tear, overcome with emotion.

In the months ahead, she and Ron and Harry would have to fight more and more evil: there would be inferi and Death Eaters and more horcruxes and possibly even the most evil wizard of all time. But that was all right. She was ready. She would gladly fight a dozen Voldemorts if it meant getting a chance with the boy that she loved.


End file.
